Across the Universe Divide
by Ice Queen1
Summary: Fluff story with younger Bellamy and Kane aboard the Ark, learning about constellations.


Author's Note: I needed something considerably lighter than the other stories I have going, so I present this utter fluff piece with kid!Bellamy and dad!Kane. This sort of goes in the same universe of Left Behind, and will probably be mentioned at some point, but can also be a stand alone fic. If you have other prompts (that keep me out of dark spaces) feel free to come find me on tumblr disappearinginq. I promise I don't bite!

Onward!

* * *

"How about that one?"

"Ursa Major."

"And that one?"

"Orion."

"Hmmm…" Marcus mused thoughtfully. "You're better at this than I am. How about… _that_ one?"

The little boy in his lap followed his finger, frowning when he saw what he was pointing at. "That's not a star, that's the _moon_ ," he chastised.

The observation deck was deserted except for the two of them. Marcus was technically on shift, but not many were in need of spiritual guidance in the middle of the sleep cycle, and Bellamy was either unwilling or unable to sleep yet _again_. Poor Aurora was at her wit's end with the kid, but Abby assured her it was normal for the younger generation to have less of a concept of night and day cycles.

Fortunately, Marcus had always been a bit of an insomniac, awake at odd hours and never quite in sync with the sleep shifts, and volunteered to keep Bellamy in the chapel with him. Aurora had told him repeatedly that it was unnecessary, but after she accidentally stitched through her finger instead of the shirt she was mending because she hadn't slept in who even knew how long, she gave up.

At least now Marcus had company.

"A victim of my own success," Marcus sighed dramatically. "I've been surpassed by my own pupil, and at the ripe old age of _five_."

"Five and a _half_ ," Bellamy corrected, trying to sound authoritative and failing miserably as he grinned from ear to ear, holding up one hand with all five fingers splayed out, and only his index crooked over on his other.

"One and a half hands," Marcus challenged. "That's younger than five, not older. If you're only one and a half, then you _definitely_ need to be in bed."

"I _am_ , see?" Bellamy protested, and pulled his blanket up over his head. "Blankets mean I'm in bed."

Marcus snorted, trying not to laugh because then the kid would know he'd won, and his score was already abysmally low. "I don't think that's how it works, kiddo. But you are _supposed_ to at least be making an effort to sleep, right?"

Bellamy hugged the blanket tighter around himself, lower lip jutting out in a near pout. "Why? It's not like we _have_ a night and day. Why can't I just sleep when I'm tired?"

Damn the logic of a freakishly observant Bellamy.

"I'm not convinced you're _ever_ tired."

Marcus had exactly zero experience when it came to kids, which, to be fair, could be said about any of the Ark adults who hadn't had their own child yet. But at least some of them had the benefit of growing up around staggered ages, or just seemed a natural parent – like Aurora. Until Bellamy was born, Marcus was positive whatever gene it was that made a parent had skipped him.

Bellamy went quiet for a moment, leaning back against Marcus's chest as he stared out at the star filled sky and the Earth below.

"Are they same from up here…as they are down there?" he asked, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"From Earth?"

Bellamy bobbed his head just once.

"Yes. The stars that make up constellations are so far away from the Earth that we would have to be closer to _them_ than to it for the stars to look any different than the ones we see from up here," Marcus explained.

"Do they _look_ the same from down there?"

Marcus considered it for a moment. "Yes…and no. We can see more of them up here. There was a lot of light pollution on Earth, so if you lived in a city, you could hardly see them at all. And there would be different constellations that you could see, depending on what time of year it was, or what part of the Earth you lived on."

The Earth hung quietly below them, half shrouded in night and half in day. He'd never known there to be lights visible on the dark side of the Earth, but he'd seen plenty of pictures. The dots and bursts of lights across darkened continents always seemed like their own constellations, bright spots of life on a now dead planet.

Those pictures had always made him a little sad to think of all those stars burned out.

"Do you miss it?" Bellamy asked, suddenly quiet, his small fingers worrying the edge of the already frayed blanket.

"Miss what?"

"Earth."

"It's kind of hard to miss something you've never known," Marcus answered, slowly, careful to keep his voice as low as Bellamy was making his. Maybe it meant the kid was finally nodding off. "I was born up here, same as you, kiddo. Same as everyone."

"Dad missed it." There was a quiet sniff, and Bellamy scrubbed the side of his face against the blanket. "Mom says that's why he left."

And instantly Marcus regretted his earlier words. Bellamy had never met his father. Abian died shortly after Aurora found out she was pregnant. He was a few years older than he and Aurora, but Aurora had fallen head over heels for the quiet man from Farm Station. Abian spent much of his time with the greenhouses, carefully tending what few flowers and plants they had that weren't much use besides providing oxygen, brought aboard the Ark before the Earth died. He'd been allowed to keep them, arguing tactfully to the Council that if the Earth was truly dead, they would need something besides algae to grow if they ever wanted to have a green planet again.

He'd confided in Marcus later that if the Earth was dead when they finally returned, they would need flowers to leave on her grave.

Marcus supposed it _was_ less traumatic to a five year old to tell him that his father missed the Earth and had to return and left a certain ambiguity about whether or not he was alive, rather than he committed suicide by Earth.

"Did you know you're named after him?" Marcus asked softly. When Bellamy didn't answer, but shifted closer so that his head was propped up on Marcus's chest just below his chin, he took it as a sign to continue. "Your father's name was Abian – he told me that in his language, it meant 'friend'. Yours means the same – just in a different language."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Why didn't she name me in _his_ language?"

Marcus winced. He knew perfectly well why – because Aurora knew how much her husband missed the Earth of his forefathers. That _his_ father's stories of their beautiful island and connection to the sea and the earth made Abian feel like he was a sailor too long from home, and those stories went from being a connection to their past and their culture to being a lead weight around his feet that drowned him as surely as a stormy sea.

"She wanted you to have something of your father's, but she didn't want you to feel like you had to compare yourself to him." Which was close enough to the truth, for a child anyway.

"I'd rather have _him_ ," Bellamy said. "Mom doesn't talk about him. I don't even know what he looks like."

 _Ouch_.

"Just look in the mirror, kiddo." He ran an affectionate hand over Bellamy's tousled dark curls.

The boy was quiet for a long moment, and Marcus had a fleeting thought of victory that maybe, just _maybe_ , he'd finally nodded off, until he pulled his legs up, tucking them underneath the blanket with him. "Tell me more stories. Ones I don't know."

Marcus sat quietly for a moment, taking in the stillness of the Ark, the quiet thrum of the engines and the recycled air through the vents. Below them looking beautiful and haunting, the Earth they could see was now fully enveloped in night.

"I can do you one better, kid," Marcus said softly. "I can tell you your father's stories." He hugged the boy closer, tilting his chair back so he could prop his feet up on the lower bulkheads until he was almost lying down in the chair. Aurora could kill him later for telling Bellamy his family's stories, but Abian was Marcus's friend, too.

"Once upon a time…the Earth had only the sky and the sea, and between the ocean and sky flew a beautiful kite. Unfortunately, this bird had no home…"

* * *

Author's Note: I have this head canon that the man Lincoln finds when he's a kid is actually Bellamy's dad (assuming there's a pretty decent age gap between Bellamy and Lincoln, but they also don't specify Lincoln's age in the story). Anyway, I figure Bellamy's looks didn't come from Aurora, so in a nod to Bob's Filipino background (even though it's his mother), and the story that Kane is telling is the popular creation myth about the kite in Filipino/Tagalog folklore. Read and review!


End file.
